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Her chest tightened at the quiet request. ‘That’s not a good idea,’ she said, but her voice didn’t sound as firm as she wanted it to.
‘Why not?’
She had so many answers to his question. So why did all of them sound false? ‘We’ve had great make-up sex. Which means we should call this quits before it gets nasty again.’
‘That was a lot more than just great make-up sex.’
‘No, it wasn’t.’
He clasped her wrist. ‘I know what great make-up sex is. That wasn’t it.’
She tugged her hand free, propped her fists on her hips, a surge of panic giving her strength to find the distance she so desperately needed. ‘I’m not looking for anything else. Don’t you get it? I’m the Blind Date Bitch, precisely so I can date guys then dump them.’
The half-truth tasted sour, but she didn’t plan to tell him he’d been the first guy to get past first base since Henry—the black hole forming in her chest cavity was big enough to run a truck through already.
‘Then you can ditch me tonight.’ Leaning close, he kissed her on the nose. The affectionate gesture surprised her almost as much as the tender expression. ‘But not before I get a real date.’
‘A real date?’ Her eyes virtually crossed with frustration. ‘What are you talking about? We had a whole night together.’
The quirk of amusement on his lips only aggravated her more. ‘I’ll pick you up here at six. That’s when you finish, right?’
‘No, you will not.’ Was he deaf or something? ‘I’ve already got enough explaining to do about you.’ She could already imagine the questions she was going to be fielding when she strolled back into the office in five minutes, looking wantonly dishevelled, half an hour after being dragged out by a deranged hotty.
‘Okay, I’ll pick you up at your place at seven.’
‘But you don’t know where I live.’
‘I’m a tech geek. I’ll figure it out.’ He looped his fingers round her wrist, lifted her hand, then buzzed a kiss across her knuckles.
She snatched her hand back, the soft brush of his lips like a brand as panic clawed at her throat. ‘No. I don’t think we should see each other again.’
‘I do and I’m making the rules.’
‘Since when?’
‘Since I discovered the Blind Date Bitch is too chicken to go on a real date. Either you give me my date or I tell all your followers the truth.’
‘What? You can’t do that!’ Outrage warred with astonishment—and the prickle of vulnerability—as her jaw went slack. ‘It’s blackmail.’
‘Damn straight it is.’ His fingers curled around her neck to pull her close. Her gasp of dismay caught in her throat as his lips touched hers. She pressed her palms against his chest, determined to push him away. But the demanding, controlling kiss she expected—and could have fought so easily—didn’t come. Instead his tongue probed, sliding across the seam of her mouth, requesting entry instead of demanding it. Her heart fluttered, the panic replaced by the swell of emotion she couldn’t seem to control. He licked, coaxing her lips with his tongue, eroding her resistance in gently lapping strokes.
She surrendered with a sigh, and his mouth fused with hers, the inevitable heat rising from her core.
His hands cradled her face, blunt fingers threading into her hair, to draw her head back. ‘Something you should know about me,’ he murmured, his voice thick. ‘When I play poker, I never bluff.’
‘If you say anything about me on Twitter, I’ll name you as the Epic Hot Lover,’ she said, her lips stinging from his kiss.
‘Go ahead. I promise I won’t sue.’
Bugger it, he was calling her bluff—while he held all the cards. She couldn’t name him, because it would be tacky and thoughtless...and she really didn’t want anyone to know his true identity. The possessive thought only made her panic increase.
Slinging a hand into his pocket, he ran his other hand across her shoulder, then reached behind her to open the closet door. ‘I’ll see you at seven. Your place.’
She stumbled out, taking a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the light from the wall of windows at one side that illuminated the empty office space. Then rushed to the exit doors. She couldn’t hear him following her, but still she ran into the ladies’ toilet. To repair the damage from their closet shag. And to wait for her heart to stop thumping her ribcage like a wrecking ball.
* * *
Brent rapped his forehead against the door-jamb as he listened to the exit doors slam shut behind Tally. The noise was muffled by the deafening thuds of his own heartbeat.
